The Real Enemy

As usual, ich danke Ihnen: mwinter1, davycrockett100, geetac, Love Faith Embers, disneypenguin, alix33, mizzrazz72, Dr. Stranger. I've been taking a few lessons in DeutschJ. Also, special mention to the Temporal Penguin for his help with the Gringotts part of this story. He is continuing The True Story on this account. Do check it out! Be warned, though, he writes big, and I mean BIG! Also, as in Prophetic Intervention, it will be Charlus and Dorea.

Three days after the clandestine meet-and-greet with the Minister, Sirius was sitting in the now heavily renovated and tastefully furbished first floor of the Shrieking Shack. Moony only ever needed it on Full Moon Nights. If there was another werewolf who'd come to Hogwarts he'd happily help Dumbledore out with the kid. So Sirius was seriously contemplating purchasing the shack. It had beautiful memories for him.

This comfort meant that he was also left with more time free, more time during which he didn't have to worry about his godson, more time during which he didn't have to worry about his own survival, and therefore more free time than it was safe for someone like Sirius to have. He was bored; thoroughly, completely bored. There also wasn't anything fun to do. He wasn't being troubled by horrible, soul-sucking, fear-causing, happiness-robbing demons, so his mind was also deliciously free of the mind-numbing fear that at least occupied him during his waking hours.

So he started to worry.

He worried whether, once he was freed and exonerated, there would be any witch willing to date him. He scoffed at that. Birds dig an injured bad boy. And Sirius was bad, very bad. Then he worried about having the ability to sire pups. Not that Azkaban affected anyone that way, no. It was just that he had been rather out of practice for the past twelve years. He needed practice. He needed lots and lots of practice. It was a bit like swimming and cycling. One didn't forget it. One just had to refine the technique. That was on his to-do list.

But then he realised that was for later. Long ago, once upon a time, there were four little boys playing pranks, before one prank turned fatal. He hadn't pulled a prank since...since he didn't he even remember anymore. Wormy needed to bear the brunt of retaliation. They had already caught him, or rather bought. He was currently being imprisoned in Remus' house which wasn't in use as he was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had tasked an elf with keeping the little rat stunned and switching the contents of his stomach so that he wasn't starved but he couldn't escape either.

But the point wasn't that. They had Wormtail. The Ministry didn't know they had Wormtail. They needed the Ministry to know Wormtail was alive, but not that they had him. Also they needed many more than just the Ministry knowing that Wormtail was alive. That meant they needed Wormtail to be shown to the world in a way that nobody could refute.

This needed some deep, deep thought. He paced, he chased his tail as a dog and then rolled about on his back. That was all warming up. Now he could think. From what he knew, Hogwarts had no ways to detect Animagi. He, Prongs and Rat had frolicked around enough without getting caught to know that. The problem was that the ward was hideously difficult to cast and ridiculously exorbitantly priced. Walburga, because of whom he had earned the moniker, SOB, had had it placed on Grimmauld Place when he had tried to sniff out Kreacher so he could give the stupid elf a scare. Then he grinned. Buying publicity was not beneath Cornelius Fudge.

He had an idea, oh, he had an idea. He would probably have to sacrifice a secret, but then it could be worth it. He furtively looked around to ensure that nobody had come to check up on him, and then as giggled madly as he had when the Marauders had arranged for Dumbledore to have an impromptu shave while he was asleep in their second year.

The very next morning he fired off a letter to Dumbledore, telling him that he had a plan. Sure enough, the old man came over with Remus, that evening.

"I quite understand what you are trying to say, Sirius," Dumbledore gravely agreed. "However, with the costs involved, Cornelius is bound to ask why."

"Oh." It was such a great idea when he first thought of it. Then he had another idea. "What if I forwarded the money through the Black Vaults? You've got the Headmaster's discretionary funds, haven't you? I know you do. I remember reading about Phineas Black investing it and reaping the profits. Nobody ever realised he was doing it because he was clever enough to keep the funds at the same level throughout his time as the Headmaster."

"I do, yes."

"Well, consider it a donation from the House of Black to help keep its last son safe while he learns within the castle's walls."

"You have made Harry...?"

"Who else would I ensure would inherit after me, Malfoy and his brat?" He then cackled at idea.

Dumbledore did not share in his humour, and it showed in his frown. "One must be sure to have what one offers."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that while some of you relatives are well off in their own right, there is something as being too well off, all of a sudden."

Sirius understood what Dumbledore was implying only too well. "I will do it immediately," he promised.

"If it doesn't overtax your funds, then a discreet donation of about twelve thousand galleons will be appreciated."

"I will see what I can do," Sirius promised.

"Very well," agreed Dumbledore with a nod. "Was there anything else?"

"There is. There are two things, actually," Remus said. "We don't want it revealed that they became Animagi to help me. Harry wondered whether he could be memory-charmed to make him forget that. I hear my predecessor was very proficient that way."

"He was. You can imagine my plight when he was the only applicant. As far as the secret goes, I understand. Padfoot needs to be kept a secret. That issue can be addressed. What was the other thing?"

"Harry pointed out that we may have to protect you, Albus."

"Protect me?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling madly at the idea.

"Yes. You remember again that Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper. However, you did testify then, that he was. Harry suggested replacing the spell upon you to ensure that nobody calls you out on that."

"Ah, yes, of course," chuckled Dumbledore. "Quite a few changes have been effected by him and he has undergone quite a few to."

"Has he?"

"Oh he has. Till last year he was quite Lily-like in his nature, while preserving the part of him that was James, the typical Gryffindor. That's not to say that James was not clever, but he was never the sort of person who'd seek to use people or to make them look up to him. The younger students did, but that's another matter."

"And now?" asked Sirius, slightly impatient at the Headmaster's meanderings.

"Now he has started learning the art of showing people what one wants them to see, at the precise moment and in the precise way that would have the right effect. I am less worried about things now." He eyed the two over his half-moon glasses. "Did you know that he has not spoken a word about Umbridge, the executions or Crouch?"

"Good Lord! If James had done it, he would have ensured everyone would know."

"Yes. Harry, however, has not boasted – but then he has made no attempts to hide those facts either. And since he has been copying my flowery language – which "makes him want to swear" – while still keeping naivety in age-appropriate amounts, he has quite a few people unsure about his ways and motives. Without trying to, he has the attention of people, even without the boy-who-lived pomp."

"Is that good?"

"So long as he knows that he may sometimes have to retreat or use others, rest his bow on their shoulders, so to speak, it is. It is why I want you free faster. You were never interested in politics, truly, Sirius, but you know the background. He will need a face, and till he can be counted on his own, you'd need to be it."

"..."

"Really Sirius, you are his godfather. Given the stage of his life that you will start being a part of, what did you think your role was going to be?" Remus chid.

"I don't know. I just thought I could get away with pranks and advice about girls and stuff. All these things you're talking of, it just was Uncle Charlus' thing, you know. We thought he'd be around forever. We just had to fight and win against old Voldy. We never thought things would happen this way."

He was targeted by two disapproving stares. So he coughed slightly and went about changing the subject. "I will get the vaults checked immediately."

"Will that be wise?"

"The goblins wouldn't bother with human problems. Their word is not considered by the law. Why would they care?"

"Greed is a moral by itself, my boy. For the right price..."

Dumbledore's suspicions proved to be, unfortunately, very true. It didn't make for a very happy Sirius, obviously. Sirius wouldn't risk entering Gringotts'. The Goblins were untrustworthy buggers who worked for whoever paid best. Their so-called tenets of honour and honesty and profits and what-not were simply smokescreens they employed to protect their name.

So, of course, Sirius had to buy their silence with five thousand pounds in lieu of a contract that clearly stated that they would not tell anyone about the transactions and the vault check without Sirius Black's permission and that those three thousand galleons covered both the vault check costs and their silence. Unfortunately for the beasts, they had agreed at the figure and Sirius had kept his wits enough to add the clauses.

Malfoy had taken his whelp to Gringotts', and as Sirius was unavailable, had had himself declared as the caretaker for the seat. Since Draco was of Black descent, a trust vault with a yearly cap of a hundred and fifty thousand galleons (the highest amount allowed for a trust vault) drained money to the tune of one point eight million galleons from the Black vault. That was about nine percent of the Black Wealth. And that was the recorded part. He was going to assume two million to round things off, at a minimum, an even ten percent. So, apart from being a heinous terrorist, he was also a thief and swindler. Nobody was surprised. Draco's vault had already been refilled for the year 1993-94, so fortunately, it would be the last amount he would swindle away.

The only saving grace was that Draco, being underage, couldn't access the Black vaults. And Lucius, being not of Black blood, would never be able to.

The twelve thousand galleons that Dumbledore needed were very easy to forward. The wards by themselves were not too big of a problem. Sirius was now worried about the after. One of the solutions he had to use to deal with Malfoy was obvious. But it wasn't enough.

"Minister, it is Headmaster Dumbledore on the Floo!" Janice, the secretary informed her boss.

"Is he now?" asked Fudge mildly. That was how those with power spoke. He had plans, and one of them would ensure that Dumbledore wouldn't be Minister and would take Potter away from him. He had convictions and he had belief that his plans would work. He was a man of power. He had to act like it. "Yes, Headmaster?" he asked as he kneeled down to receive the call.

"Ah, Cornelius, I hope you have some time?"

Fudge made a show of checking his watch. "I do have five minutes, Headmaster."

"Excellent! It speaks well of your regime that people of your stature can set aside time for the little people."

Fudge only nodded, though he was fighting down a gleeful smile. He always had that problem when he as praised. "You had some work?"

"I did indeed. You see, the other day, my teachers and I were discussing ways to increase the protections. We realised that we do not have protections against Animagi. We intend to lay the wards on the first Sunday of the New Year. I was wondering whether you would consent to participate in the ritual, or attend perhaps the ceremony."

Now Cornelius was in a fix. Contrary to popular belief, he was not completely stupid. He had a vague, but not too vague, idea regarding what went into casting wards. And he knew that, in truth, he wasn't exactly the person to help as he truly wasn't that powerful. If he attended, he would be seen as doing something, irrespective of the fact that the only thing he would be doing would be sitting and observing people cast magic at the ancient castle.

"I have called in the Prophet to say that we will be hosting a ritual ceremony, the first in three hundred years, for new wards," Dumbledore continued cheerfully. "It is important because while the standard wards are re-laid or updated by every Headmaster, this is a new, more complex ward, and the ritual will be important enough to show the world that Hogwarts, with the Ministry having knowledge of the fact, is always evolving in its attempts to secure the safety of her students."

Cornelius' stomach dropped at that. Albus had created a situation which he simply couldn't dare be missing from. Good bloody Merlin's sagging nuts! He had to contribute in some way. He had to be seen doing it, not tell anyone he was doing it, and still have everyone know that he was doing something. For the first time in his life, Cornelius Fudge found himself in the place of so many who contributed to his campaigns. The irony that he was contributing to Hogwarts and in turn was generating goodwill for himself was not lost.

"Of course I will be there, Albus. In fact, as a personal contribution, I will forward fifteen thousand galleons towards this effort."

It took the entire extent of Dumbledore's not inconsiderable prowess at Occlumency and experience, to prevent the look of incredulous wonder from blossoming on his face.

"Such generosity from our leaders is not only to be commended, Cornelius, but to be applauded. It will be with great honour, then, that Hogwarts will recognise you as one of her Great Patrons."

The dropped stomach rose till it almost blew Cornelius' chest out. Damn all those donations, this by itself was prime campaign material.

"The honour is mine, Headmaster. It is a poor student who wouldn't help his alma mater when he has the means."

It was on Christmas Eve that Harry met his godfather again. The lessons were all over for the term, so Remus shed his Professor persona and became Moony, the surrogate uncle.

"So, kid, how was it?"

"Much better this term," answered Harry. "You know, nothing happened on Halloween! Something always did, and this year nothing happened!"

"Yes. I should have attacked the Gryffindor common room or something, you know, painted it all in Sly...in Sly...in green and..."

"What's happening to him?" Harry asked Remus worriedly.

"That's his reaction to even thinking about his beloved Gryffindor common room in Slytherin colours. He wanted to marry it when he was younger," Moony replied solemnly.

"Hey!" protested Sirius indignantly.

They spent the day and the next as a family, and it was truly the best Christmas ever. Both Sirius and Remus regaled Harry with stories of his parents and grandparents, which he lapped up enthusiastically. He had to go back to the castle periodically to ensure that nobody would get suspicious, but that apart, it almost felt like home. Truly, it was the people that made homes.

"Moony told me that Malfoy was a thief."

"Yes. I am unsure what to do," admitted Sirius. He had no qualms treating Harry as he would an adult, in these matters. "Well, apart from one obvious step, that is."

"What can you do?"

"All I can do is lock them out of the vaults by disowning Narcissa and her son from the Black family."

"Have you done it yet?"

"No. I need to get into my Merlin-damned house and decree it. I thought they had disowned me, but apparently, my grandfather thought better of it."

"Thank Merlin!"

"What? Why?"

"Why waste it now when you can use it to shame them later?"

Sirius was now suitably intrigued. "Explain."

"I don't know much about the older families, but I suppose given the fact that Malfoy could steal money for twelve years, yet not run out of it, you are one of the richer people around?"

"Yes. He has taken about a tenth of my money."

"Good bloody Lord!" swore Harry. "This is excellent and this is horrible! How could the goblins...?"

"Wait. Listen mate, you are moving too fast for me to handle. Stay on topic. What way were you giving me to shame Malfoy?"

Harry blinked stupidly, then resumed. "Yours is an old, prestigious family, isn't it? And getting kicked out of it would be shameful?"

"Yes. Yes."

"So once you are freed, you become the head of the Blacks?"

"As I am the only living male Black of my generation, yes."

"So you are practically the most powerful Black, at least politically, once you are free. Plus, you will have lot of hatred against anyone bearing the Dark Mark which nobody can say a word against, and a lot of reason to doubt them."

"Yes. Oh, I get it. Kicking them out now only makes Malfoy irritated without me having my freedom, which is a dangerous situation to be in. Once I am free, and with the show we will put to expose the Rat, I get public sentiment on my side, so when I kick them out, the Malfoys are publicly shamed, and doubts about everyone's credibility across the board are raised."

"Exactly," agreed Harry. "I can already imagine your words in the papers. "Anyone bowing to another man's whims and fancies to murder, torture and terrorise is less than human in my opinion. Having suffered the punishment for the actions of such an individual while being innocent, I refuse to allow the House of Black with anyone bearing the Mark of Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy is no cousin of mine, for she willingly consorts with one whose innocence I doubt. I have been betrayed by the law, and have for so long been bereft of justice, that I doubt the innocence of anyone with the mark who walked free. The law does not work retrospectively, but it too has been fooled. My decisions will always be in favour of my House and my motherland. Every marked man or woman is a traitor to our society and our motherland. I stand here to say, NO MORE!""

Sirius grinned widely. He could bring them down in a swathe, this way. "I like it." He imagined the traditional business partners whining and wailing. And then he had an idea.

"Would you trust me with the Potter vaults?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I have an idea which might help recoup the money."

"Do tell."

"Money was stolen from the Black vaults by unscrupulous means. Through the trust vault number 911, Lucius Malfoy has stolen money to the tune of nearly two million galleons. While the Black Wealth was not seriously harmed, it was a crime and considerable harm nonetheless. The Goblins have acted in their honour and by their rules which the wizards have agreed to with regards to vault claims. However, in light of the fact that such a travesty has occurred, the House of Black no longer wishes to bank with Gringotts until such time as the money stolen is retrieved. By rights, in light of the fact that I was alive, there should have been a temporary suspension of the vaults. This has been contravened. The Potter family has allowed me regency for the coming four years, till Harry Potter attains majority. So to protect those interests, those vaults are withdrawn from Gringotts with immediate effect."

"That's a good idea, but I have a few questions before I agree."

Sirius nodded. It was Harry's money, and he wasn't surprised that the boy wouldn't immediately trust him with it.

"How does the banking system work here? What are the interest rates? Do they have Forex trading? Do they have investment accounts?"

Sirius stared at him blankly. "What?"

It was Remus who fielded this question. "For your last three questions, the answer is no. I do not myself have an active vault owing to my affliction, but I remember Lily asking James these questions. You see, the magical society is very small, and prides itself in being self-sufficient, technically. Some like the Greengrasses own farms, real farms where they grow food crops, cotton and such. They compete with the Longbottoms who have also been an agrarian family historically. As such the older families essentially had their own hereditary businesses and jobs.

"Now since most people don't need to buy or sell outside of the British community, they don't have the concept of growing money, as Lils called it. The vaults are just that – vaults. People only store money in vaults. There is no concept of interest. There may have once been, but there hasn't been one since the Goblin Rebellion that handed all our finances to them.

"As for Forex trades, bullions and such, do you think they do? They regularly trade five pounds for a galleon, the cost of gold notwithstanding. Most of the money Gringotts makes, legally, is through curse-breaking, warding services and as intermediaries over will disputes. That is because blood magic is as good as illegal in wizarding customs but they can use it.

"But the real money they earn is through fleecing the people. So far as I understand, Gringotts has vast holdings. They use the money in the vaults for their own purposes and are only obligated to keep the level the same. All things said and done, they earn money through their holdings quite aggressively. Plus they must have some reserves to ensure they are not called out. That apart, they are known to make hideously horrible loan deals – horrible for the one who asks for the loan, that is. There is at least a deal per year which gets them more securities or gets for them many attached properties or business or such."

Harry frowned and frowned as Remus lectured on. "So we are effectively ruled by them?"

"Yes. You could say that."

Harry got up and paced a bit. "This is shite. This is utter shite. What you are telling me is that there is no competition, the goblins are using our money – on loan, mind – and we don't get interest, while they fleece people out of their homes and hearths, while also lying through their fangs and betraying their customers left, right and centre."

"Mind your language Harry," Remus scolded automatically. "Yes. What you are saying is essentially true. I must add though, that people are afraid of the goblins because they kill by swathes in their rebellions."

"Well if someone could use brains and come out of the bloody medieval ages, Gringotts could be destroyed! Who needs those beasts? They are just Death Eaters in another garb, mercenaries and murderers!"

"There was a bill that supported hunting goblins."

"Those people are idiots. We can't kill them but we can and must destroy their economy. Unfortunately, it complicates matters."

"What are you saying?"

"The Malfoy thievery could be exposed and it will do nothing beyond making those animals angry. All things said and done, two million galleons, on the overall scale to which Fudge must have been fed by Malfoy could very well be peanuts."

"So taking back the money will serve no purpose beyond getting the goblins angry, Malfoy shamed, dangerous and angry – not that I care about him – and Fudge will no longer be completely receptive," realised Sirius.

"Similarly, kicking them out of the House of Black will be only a small measure of petty revenge."

"So I shouldn't do it?"

"Not as of yet, no," reasoned Harry. "It was a pipedream to have all the Death Eaters destroyed, but it makes no difference. Their money, our money, everybody's money is in the hands of the goblins. No matter whom we expose, it won't matter in the end. Everybody has one, common, and largely silent enemy, Gringotts."

"You are agreeing with Umbridge," Remus pointed out coolly.

"I am. On this matter I agree with anybody who classes them as beasts."

"The same bill that does so classes me as a beast as well."

"And that is where they are fools. Our job is now to convince the magical world that the Goblins are our enemies. For everyone," Harry stressed. "I have an idea but it needs work."

"Go on," prompted Sirius.

"We need to somehow convince people to demonetise the galleons, sickles and Knuts and use the national muggle currency instead."

"Harry, that is the most insane and impossible idea I've ever heard. Even the Death Eaters will be able to go have muggle accounts."

"Exactly."

The two elder men had a feeling of an oncoming migraine.

"They will destroy the banking system!"

"Not if all magicals can have accounts only in banks run by magicals, and those running the banks are required to sign binding contracts and swear oaths."

"I still say it is insane. The magicals are too resistant to change. And there is nobody living who hasn't used the current currency."

"It isn't insane. I don't have a plan, but this can work."

"And what about Voldemort?" asked Remus. "I know he isn't dead. What if whatever you're thinking alienates the Goblins so much that they side with him?"

He received only a rueful shake in response. "Voldemort has the same enemy too, Professor. But his elimination is necessary. I understand that."

He fished out his ubiquitous notebook and pen. "You see we have several variables and elements to work with after Sirius is free. There will be a fallow period of time, because the Death Eaters will have to regroup. They can't strike immediately in any manner. That leaves us with the Death Eater closest to the minister tentatively under Sirius' power. They must have, between them, a lot of money. So we have to find enough information to be able to bring them down first." He noted all that down. "At least one of them has to know how Voldemort is still alive. That issue has to be addressed. They can be manipulated for their money.

"I need information about the taxation and the collection cut that the Goblins must take. That can be used later to convince Fudge.

"Next it will be necessary to save our money first from their greedy hands. The word has to spread – when more people start withdrawing money, their structure will automatically collapse. In the meanwhile, people will need an alternate banking system. That requires loan capital and starting capital, will have to be according to regulations, so either a guideline or something of that sort is necessary. The currency acts as a regulation, so demonetising the Galleons and Sickles and Knuts has to be synchronised with the use of the Pound Sterling or euro. Some people may have outstanding loans with Gringotts which may have to be bought and re-lent under regulation. We'll need new arbitration courts. New schemes for non-physical payment can be used."

He was practically thinking aloud. The two Marauders were looking at the boy, perplexed, and in slight fear. When he looked up again and grinned, Sirius felt a frisson of terror. "It is time that humans reclaimed their money from Goblin hands. A new bank which doesn't use galleons is a possible solution."

"Harry, think about the risks," cautioned Sirius in a shaky voice. Now he understood why and how he was supposed to look out for the kid. That didn't mean he could do it, just that he understood the scope.

"Whatever happens, Sirius, I promise you that we won't lose money. And this way, I think you'll get to call the Goblins liars, piss on the Death Eaters and earn more. By the time you're free, I will have a plan that reduces the blood-bigotry, gets us financial freedom and could possibly help Moony."

Remus and Sirius shared a rather sceptical glance. The pup was insane, really.

The Great Patron is something that I think could exit similar to how some Universities hand out PhDs to donors and patrons.

The solution will be described through situations in further chapters and won't be verbally described. The Penguin helped me flesh it out.